


It's Just Politics

by Sangsue



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 21:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16026044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangsue/pseuds/Sangsue
Summary: Solving a murder should be a simple thing...With the death of the the patriarch of the Lassum Family, leaving behind no male heir, the First Order scrambles to not only discover the cause of Lord Visien Lassum's death but to also find a successor. To make sure the job gets done, Minister Snoke sends one of his best teams, led by Inspector Tarkin and his second in command Armitage Hux. There, Constable Hux finds that someone has already claimed Lassum's title, his young ward Selena Grey. But the Lassum house is full of many secrets, and Selena seems driven to hide many of them to ensure her claim to the house of Sacorria. Constable Hux, left alone to discern the truth, finds himself the target of many who wish to mislead and use him for power and revenge. Each inquiry leads to a new information, and it becomes harder to tell what is truth and what is illusion. For a country on the brink of civil war, relationships are everything, and these ties can be severed very easily.





	It's Just Politics

_The door slides open. The man behind it is getting on in his years, clean shaven face lined with fine wrinkles, but the bounce in his step and the set of his shoulders hinted to a youthful vigor._

_The other man stands in the threshold, hands behind his back. He is younger, looks a little stiff in his dark uniform. The sun hits his back and outlines his long shadow against the wall, lightens his red hair. He coughs once into his fist and then pulls at the collar of his shirt. “Good day. I know I’m early, but I did phone to-”_

_“Yes, yes. We know who you are” Nereo, the doorman, steps away from the door and allows the man access. “Please, come in. I’ll show you to the Lord’s study.”_

_He follows the doorman up the stairs and down the hall. A door is cracked, light streams from the room, and both men can hear voices. The doorman places a hand on the door, pushing it open slightly to mark their approach._

_“My Lord?”_

_The two figures are revealed. A woman sits in an armchair, face red and etched with frustration. The man in question, Lord Visien Lassum, is on his knees before her. A footstep causes the floorboards to creak, both of them turn their gazes to the door._

_“My Lord. Constable Hux of the First Order is here.” The doorman moves to the side to make room for Hux to enter. Hux watches Visien rise to his feet, using the woman’s chair to help him. She looks back and forth between Hux and Visien, releasing a heavy breath. Her fingers twitch in her lap, Hux can see that she is trying to compose herself._

_“Constable Hux?” Visien grunts, straightening his back. “You’re early.”_

_“Yes sir. I apologize if this is an inconvenience.”_

_“No no,” he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It’s fine. Selena, dear?”_

_The woman stands, briefly claiming Hux’s attention. She doesn’t look happy, but she does appear to have calmed down. “Yes, Visien?”_

_“We can continue this conversation later, if you’d like… Shall I find you later?”_

_There is a pregnant pause. Hux looks back and forth between the two, waiting. Suddenly, her lips part in a bright smile. “Of course.”_

 

Selena stepped into the garden. It was going to be a nice day. Warm, late spring. Sunny but not oppressively hot.  A light breeze passed through the trees, which had already begun to bloom with large white flowers. She smiled.

The guests were already present, she could see them congregating in the distance. A servant girl offered her an umbrella as protection from the sun, Selena accepted it and walked ahead, hoping to catch up. It had rained two days ago and the ground was still wet, she was happy that she hadn’t worn the heels. The crowd turned to greet her as she approached, many offering a pat on the back or a sympathetic smile. She nodded in response, gave thanks for their support and comforting presence.

A songbird chirps somewhere above them, hidden by the canopy of leaves. Light seeped in and shone through the branches.

It really was a lovely day for a funeral.

The clergy man, Bishop Warthen, stood before the crowd. His dark robes, ceremonial and ornate, seemed almost oppressive. While the gold embroidery around his collar and cuffs gleam in the sunlight, the thick black fabric seems to draw in heat. Every so often he would dab a line of sweat from his hairline. He had barely finished speaking the sacred words, relief filling his facial, when Selena rose from her seat and took the flame, using it to set the man she’s spend the last seven years calling her uncle, Lord Visien Lassum of Sacorria, on fire. The preparations made to his body prevented smoke and smell from filling the air, they also made sure that his body would burn quickly. Later his ashes will be collected and sprinkled on the dirt around the tree that had been planted at his birth. His final resting place will be beside his son’s own tree, though Visien’s stood much taller and more mature.

It was customary to wait for the corpse to be reduced to ash. Many of the guests beckoned for their servants to bring them fans, food, and drink. The servant girl, two steps behind Selena, comes forward to hand her a cloak. She shakes her head and smiles, instead placing the thick, ornate cloth around the other girl’s shoulders. The fabric is dark, though red instead of mourning black, laced with silver thread in tiny flowers. It covers her plain uniform and, for a moment, she looks like her lady’s companion, not her lackey. Many onlookers appear confused, but none interject.

Her gaze briefly flits to the house. Another servant is at the backdoor, standing on the patio which looks out on the garden. His face looks distressed and his eyes cut back into the manor.

“Take a seat, Rose,” Selena gestures to her own seat, the one closest to her uncle’s pyre. It is a seat of honor, strictly reserved for his next of kin. “I think more visitors have arrived.”

She picks up the umbrella again and makes the quick walk back to the house. The doorman who had called for her attention a moment ago opens the door for her and offers his arm, guiding her from the gardens to the foyer. Selena walks with a straight spine and ignores the doorman’s nervous expression. He doesn’t have enough time to prepare her for what awaits, not when the uniformed men have left the foyer to come and find her on their own. 

Lenus’s arm tightens around her own. She firmly detangles herself from his grip and takes a step forward.  “Thank you for coming, gentlemen. Most of us are attending the pyre ceremony. You are welcome to join.”

Black uniforms- First Order bunch. Some even have their red insignia sewn on their breast. Most are armed. She had been expecting them to arrive eventually, but not so soon. If they were a more respectable group, they would’ve at least waited until after the funeral to carry out this investigation. Selena takes their measures, their positions and the cut of their uniforms, and thinks that she chooses correctly when she picks out their leader. His face is familiar, but she does not remember his name. She makes direct eye-contact with him, singling him out from the others, and moves to take his arm. “Here, let me show you.”

The man is tall, towering above her. She has to turn her head to look up at him, his neck has to bend to look at her. That, paired with the downward tilt to his lips, gives him a look of disdain. She pretends not to notice it, nor the fact that he tries to recoil when she lays a hand on him. He does, however, allow the contact and for her to pull him in the direction of the backdoor.

“How many of you plan on spending the night here? We have more than enough rooms, but I must give the servants time to prepare.”

“This isn’t a social call, Miss…”

“Miss Grey. And you are?”

He stops her by planting his feet on the ground and standing- almost- at attention. Muscle memory, perhaps, this stance. “Constable Hux of the First Order.”

 _Constable?_ That catches her off guard. She’d been expecting at least a sergeant, with the way he carried himself and seemed to command the respect of the other men. He’d come to Visien’s house alone to investigate the death on Hanson. However, Selena looks him over again and realizes that he is young, perhaps still beginning his career. She’d assumed too much.

 Her free hand goes to her breast. “It’s an honor, to have men of such high esteem here. My… uncle would have been grateful.”

“Miss Grey, as I said, this is not a social call.”

She releases him and steps back, hand still pressed to her heart. “Will you not at least pay your respects... he has only just passed, Constable.”

The Constable watches as she backs away from him and opens the door, giving him a view of the property. From here, he can see the gathering of people and the burning of Visien’s corpse. He knows that most of the people present are not there to mourn or pay their respects, they are there to prey upon a family made weak. Visien Lassom is dead. He survived his son, Hanson Lassom, by two months, but now both are dead and there is a vacuum. Who will inherit this family’s titles, this family’s wealth.

In other instances the First Order might not take an interest. Visien had not been an avid supporter of their party, nor had he given many resources or aid. He did, however, give access to land that had proven invaluable for surveillance of their potential enemies nearby, particularly those on Selonia. It was of great importance, as was his connections to other nobility. The Lassum family had maintained connections the nobility of Zonama Sekot, Wayland, Ralltiir… among others for generations.

“Miss Grey-” he begins again, but she is already moving out the door.

“I’ve already lit the flame, Constable. Please. It shouldn’t be long now.”

He hesitates a moment before indicating to the other men that they should remain in the manor. While he is entertaining her, they should secure the property and make sure that no one tries anything. The Inspector should be here before long. Hux then straightens his uniform, fixes his hat, and takes her arm once more to follow her into the gardens. His boots sink into the soil, the brown wetness collecting on the hem of his trousers. He mutters a curse, but stays ahead of her.

Miss Grey had been correct. Lord Visien Lassum was already unrecognizable, the corpse being reduced to ash and chard bits. When they reached his pyre, Bishop Warthen had already begun sweeping his remains into the family vessel. His eyes traced through the crowd, found Selena’s face, and nodded. She released Hux’s arm and took a step forward, accepting the ornate urn in her hands. White marble and green gems, the Lassum family colors. She held the votive close to her chest and the crowd of mourners followed her to Visien’s tree. The trunk was thick, but the branches bore few leaves and flowers. Hux wondered if it was healthy.

“Visien Lassum,” Selena began, peeking into the urn. “May your spirit find a seat among your ancestors.” She then, with an indelicate motion, turned the urn in her hands and unceremoniously dumped the ashes in the dirt. Several guests gasped, this did not hold the typical pageantry that most other mourning ceremonies had, with the gradual sprinkling of the remains and a kind word with each handful. It was more akin to throwing out rubbish.

Selena, after a beat, turned and bowed to the remaining guests. “Shall we continue this in the house?”

There were some mummers of agreement, many had already begun the trek back to the house, but Hux stood a little bit straighter and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I cannot allow that.”

There is a long moment of silence. Most of the guests stand still, glancing at each other for some sort of explanation. Selena steps closer. She does not frown, or appear angry. Merely curious.

“Is there a problem, Constable Hux?”

He looks her over, once. Young. Dark hair. Dark eyes. A strong chin, even more so now, when she’s turning her head to look up at him. “No. But I’m sure that all of you are aware of the situation.”

“Situation, Constable?”

“The death of the Lassum line. An heir must be found. You, and your household, may remain here until that heir is found. But all others must leave.”

The whispers return, outrage and annoyance, but Selena only steps closer to him. The tilt of her jaw looks less like an attempt to maintain eye contact and more like… arrogance. She smiles. “Constable, I understand the need to get ahead of this situation. I do. But you must understand, an heir has already been found.”

“One has?”

“Yes.”

“And who would that be?”

It would have to be someone the Order would allow. Blood relation to Visien was preferred, but not necessary. The main qualification would be loyalty, from belief in the Order’s vision or from fear, either would do.

“I am Lord Lassum’s heir.”

There were some mummers, Hux could not tell if they were in agreement or not. She did not seem to care. Perhaps it is a cruel thing to do, because she does appear sincere, but Hux cannot help himself. He laughs. And for a moment he sees fire behind her eyes, the sharp downturn of her lips. It silences him.

The crowd around them no longer exist, there is only her gaze.

“Is there a problem with that, Constable?”

His men are already tearing through the house. His men are already searching for evidence. “Well, yes.”

“And what is that?”

He hesitates. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in private.”

“I think not,” the urn drops to the ground at her feet, white material stained brown by the mud. The splatter strikes her black shoes and the hem of her dress. She seems unphased. “These were my uncle’s friends. His colleagues. They knew everything about him.” Hux cuts his eyes around the crowd and looks at them. Already knows them all to be vultures. But some of them avoid his gaze, scratching at their collars or coughing into their fists. It’s a reaction he’d like to explore, but Selena’s voice pulls his attention back to her. “Whatever you can say to me you can say in front of them.”

“No one can take up the title until a proper investigation has been finished.”

If this startles her, she gives no indication. “Investigation into what?”

“Into your unc-, into Lord Lassum’s death.”

She scoffs. “It was an illness.”

“Perhaps. But a nobleman has died. An investigation must be carried out. Under the instructions and orders of Minister Snoke of the 84th Parliament, we the men of the First Order will decide if Lord Lassum's death was a natural one. And you, Miss Grey, will be confined to your room for the duration.” Behind her, Hux has a direct line of sight to the house. He can see one of his colleagues step onto the deck, leading Inspector Tarkin by the arm, and immediately feels more at ease. He addresses the crowd, but only spares them a passing glance before looking at Selena. “The men of the First Order will personally remove you from the premises, if need be.” Closing the space between himself and the young woman, Hux offers his arm to her. “Shall I escort you to your chambers, Miss Grey.”

He thinks he recognizes her now, as the young woman who’d been with Lord Lassum just before his death, because now there is that same rage behind her eyes. And now he sees the transformation again, sees her force a bright smile to her face as she takes his arm and follows him to the house.

“If you don’t mind,” she says easily, voice light and calm while her gaze pins him like knives. “I do hate to be a bother.”

**Author's Note:**

> Another sleepy work. One of these days i'm going to crank out something well thought out and brilliant. Just you wait!!   
> Also i'm all about ideas. Tell me yours!!


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